


Girls Like Girls

by swanqueenfic13



Series: Aca-Song Fics [11]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Girls Like Girls - Freeform, Song fic, jesse is a douche, seriously if you like jesse don't read, teenage love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the Hayley Kiyoko song/ music video "Girls Like Girls"</p><p>This is the longest one-shot I've ever done and I'm pretty proud of it. It's got more backstory than the music video but if you watch the video it does heavily align, so... I recommend you all listen to the song and leave me reviews! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Like Girls

“How could this have happened?” My dad roars.

“We should never had moved out of Los Angeles,” my mom wails. 

“I’m fine,” I assure. But the doctors and police officers just keep asking what happened. So, I tell them.

 

It all started when my mom got a promotion and she moved us all to a small town in Georgia. She worked in a fancy hospital in Atlanta but wanted to raise me and my twin siblings Aaron and Lizzie in the suburbs. Not that we needed much more raising. I was almost seventeen and the twins were already in the third grade. I begged her not to move us. I was about to be going into my senior year. I didn’t want to start over, but she insisted. So, here I was moving into a new house in June.

It was the summer between junior and senior year, and everything was supposed to be amazing. I was supposed to be working at my local McDonald’s or at a summer camp, earning money towards a car. I was supposed to be hanging out with my friends and having fun. Instead, I ended up Skyping my friends while unpacking my boxes in my new bedroom, hating life like any good teenager should.

 

It was a week after we moved in before my mom kicked me out.

“You and you moping are driving me crazy!” she shouted, swatting at me with her newspaper. I scowled at her but she just laughed. “Chloe, you go out there and make some friends. I know you’re angry at us for moving you away from everything, but you need to go out and meet people!” Softening, she sat next to me on the couch. “It won’t do you any good to sit here on the couch and mope about your old friends.”

“Well, it’s not my fault we’re across the country!” I shouted angrily, attempting to stomp away. She grabbed my wrist to keep me there.

“Excuse me, Chloe Amelia Beale, you will not raise your voice to me,” she rebuked. I frowned, chewing my lower lip.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “I just… miss everyone.” 

“I know, bug,” she whispered, rubbing my arm. “But, if you want to make this better, you should try and find some new friends here. Just… go to the library. I saw that they have a great young adults section and some summer reading programs. Or you could volunteer with the children’s program! I think you’ll like going there,” she suggested. So I just nodded. I packed a bag with a water and some snacks, my ID so I could get a library card, and my headphones. I got on my bright blue bike and I set off to find the library.

 

It was a small, stone building with a flagpole out front. Inside, I found myself greeted by signs directing me to the various sections. Following them, I ended up going upstairs to the “teen room.” Just a large open room, computers lined one wall. A few were occupied by kids on social media sites or playing games. There were bean bag chairs, comfortable couches and two recliners, most occupied. A display shelf was set up with new arrivals, magazines and comic books. The shelves all around the room held hundred upon hundreds of books.

I was in love. I loved standing there in the doorway, watching all of the people on the computers and walking among the shelves. I loved the smell that libraries have. Walking in, I loved feeling like I was surrounded by stories and fantasy worlds and words and knowledge. I loved all of it.

Meandering down the stacks, I pulled out a book and I took to the couch, curling up to start reading it. It was an old Agatha Christie novel and I was sucked into a world of murder mysteries and diabolical plots. I had completely forgotten to talk to my mom and by the time I closed the book and finished, it was getting dark. I had three missed calls, two voicemails and fifteen texts from my mom. And a library employee was staring at me.

“You enjoying that book?” she asks. Her voice is lower than I’d expected for someone so small. Her hair is dark brown, her skin paler than even my own. I’d been staring at her eyes trying to figure out what color they were when I realized I looked like a fool, jaw open and mumbling.

“Um, uh, gah, yeah,” I stuttered.

“Agatha Christie’s pretty good. You like mysteries?” She smirked at me and I had to look down at the book to try and relax. My breath was coming quick and I could feel my cheeks reddening.

“Not usually. I just… Thought I’d try something different,” I shrugged.

“Me, I love mysteries,” she sighed. “There’s something… The not knowing is… Fantastic. I kind of like how it keeps me guessing all the way until the end. We have a bunch of mysteries over here… If you wanted to get another.” Shrugging, she turns and starts to walk away. “Oh, and the library is closing in five minutes.”

“Shit,” I squeaked nervously. “I’ll… I’ll get a new book tomorrow. Maybe you could… recommend something?” I asked, trying to replicate her sultry, casual tone. I don’t think I succeeded.

“Maybe I could… Maybe I’ll be here tomorrow… But that’s all part of the mystery, isn’t it?” She quirks an eyebrow in challenge and I swear that, for just a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“Huh, yeah I-I-I guess?” I stammered.

“Hey, little DJ! You ready to start locking up yet?” a voice called from somewhere behind the desk. Blushing, I stood and handed the girl the book.

“I’ll see you… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” I laughed awkwardly. She smiles, tilting her head. 

Leaning in, she whispers, “I guess that’s just part of the mystery.” My eyes fluttered shut and I nodded wordlessly. Without another word, I ran down the stairs and out the front door, opening my phone to call my mom and apologize as I rode my bike back home. I couldn’t believe I didn’t get her name.

 

I went to the library the next day, but she wasn’t there. I sat there for hours, reading another Agatha Christie book but she never came. So I tried again the day after that. She still wasn’t there and the constant murder mysteries were starting to depress me. The next day, I checked out a modern teen romance novel instead. I was just leaving with it when I bumped into the girl on my way out. She was just walking in.

“My mystery girl,” I laughed. She stalled and I was glad to have gotten the upper hand. I’m not a girl who enjoyed playing the part of the flustered, nervous girl; I preferred to be the predator rather than the prey.

“Uh, yeah,” she laughs. “Found anything good?” I hold up the book in my hand wordlessly. She nods. “That’s… That’s cool. Rad. Groovy.” I could practically see her slapping herself for her obvious, cringe-worthy word vomit. 

Laughing, I said, “so I’m Chloe Beale. I’m new to the area. Mom’s promotion moved us here from LA. Maybe, in addition to giving me book recommendations, you could show me around the area?” She grinned at me.

“Only if you tell me all about life in LA,” she offers. “I’ve always wanted to live there.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” I teased. She shrugged shyly. I playfully shoved her shoulder. “So, now you know my name. What’s yours? Or, is that still a mystery?”

“Beca. Mitchell,” she forces out as she extended her hand. Beaming, I shook it.

“Well then, Beca Mitchell, I look forward to seeing you here tomorrow so we can share information.” And just like that, I left, sure to put a little extra sway in my hips as I walked.

 

Pretty soon, this progressed into hanging out together. I would bike to Beca’s house, or she would bike to mine. We’d go out around town, finding new places for me to explore and Beca got to see things through a new set of eyes. Sometimes when I was at her place, or when we were out, I’d meet Beca’s boyfriend Jesse. He was two years older, going into his sophomore year of college at Barden University. He was pleasant enough the first time we hung out but after that he was completely apathetic, practically ignoring me whenever we were hanging out with Beca. I just ignored him and focused on Beca.

One afternoon, he met us out at this field. He was drunk, but Beca didn’t seem to think anything of it so I didn’t comment. Beca and I had been laughing and talking, walking around the trails in the area. When Jesse got there, we had to stay put in the center of the field. He pulled out his stupid wooden baseball bat and was launching balls and empty beer cans as far as he could. And Beca was dancing.

“There’s no music, you weirdo,” I had laughed, taking a sip of my water. It was a hot day, July 5. I had spent Independence Day at a neighborhood barbeque, getting to know my boring neighbors.

“There’s always music in my head!” she proclaimed. She used her flannel shirt as a shawl then, untying it from around her waist and holding it up like a shield from the sky or a cape flying behind her as she spins around in circles. This was not the first time I felt the familiar pang of longing in my chest, but it was stronger this time. It felt more like love. So, I grabbed a beer from Jesse’s cooler and took a long sip before I stood up and took her hands, dancing with her.

 

And then July became August. The dog days of summer. It was hot, humid and Beca and I had taken to having lazy days at her house so we could lounge by her pool. I was very steadily losing the ginger-pale and gaining a tan- along with plenty of freckles. It was just a typical Tuesday. I bid my family goodbye and set off on my bike to Beca’s house.

“Hey,” she smirked when she opened the door, pulling me into a hug. I was smiling, and then Jesse came to give me a quick, insincere smile before shoving off the wall to go get another beer. Beca rolled my eyes and I laughed, following her into the kitchen.

“What’s our plan for today?” I asked. She shrugged, hopping up on her countertop. I smiled, following her up. Jesse stormed by us to grab more beer and disappear into the living room. I could hear the sounds of video game gunfire and death blaring out from the TV.

“Well, my dad’s out of town visiting the step-monster’s family. So, I have the house to myself. Jesse invited some people over later this afternoon and probably wants to have a- a party tonight.” She’d said it quietly, like the air slowly being let out of a balloon. Deflating slowly, her shoulders folding in and she rummages in a drawer. Pulling out a small, carefully rolled blunt, she reached behind my head and pulled a little purple lighter out of the cabinet. Taking a drag, she closes her eyes and smiles, offering it to me. Hesitantly, I lean forward and she put it between my lips. It smelled like skunk and tasted kind of gross in my mouth, but after a moment, I felt looser.

“A party? I thought you said you don’t like house parties?” I’d asked, swinging my feet so that my heels lightly kicked her counter. Beca shrugs, glancing into the living room where Jesse is clearly absorbed in his games. She takes another drag and closes her eyes, leaning back against the cupboards to think. Reaching out, I grab her wrist and bring the blunt to my lips, making careful eye contact with her while I inhale. I’d meant it to be alluring, sexy, confident. But I ended up inhaling too much too quickly and coughed, choking on the stupid smoke.

“Careful there, red,” she teased. We sat in silence for a few minutes, passing the blunt back and forth. “I don’t.” Raising an eyebrow, I smile at her bemusedly. “I don’t really like house parties. Especially not in my house. But… Jesse does and I don’t… feel like arguing today. He said it’s just ten people over to get drunk and listen to music so… Why bother starting something?” She’d shrugged pathetically as if to say  _ what does it matter?  _

“Um, because it’s your house and if you don’t want a party here, you don’t want a party here,” I’d scoffed. She just sighed and hopped off the counter.

“I wanna go swimming. It’s already so humid. Let’s go swimming.” Shaking my head, I grabbed my bag and followed her into her bedroom. 

We had a nice little arrangement, Beca and I. She’d go to one corner of her room to change and I’d change in the other, in front of her mirror. She pretended not to notice how I peeked in the mirror at her naked back as she pulled on her top. I’d pretend not to notice how she’d smile after and watch me slip out of my own clothes. 

She had these little dimples in her back, right a the bottom of her spine. And a birthmark on her left shoulder shaped like the state of California that I liked to tease her about. I told her she was destined for the west coast, and this birthmark just proved it. She would just laugh and make a show of trying to count all my freckles and teasing me about my ‘pale ginger ass.’ And we always left the room linking arms, shoving and pushing as we raced out to the pool.

“My splash was bigger than yours,” she boasted. I just shook my head, sinking into the deep end so that only my eyes were above the water. Then, I shot up and spit a mouthful of water at her.

“Liar,” I giggled.

“Ew, dude! You’re- that’s gross.” But regardless, she spit more water right back at me. Naturally, this started a splash war and we chased each other around. 

And then Jesse came out of the house, sprinted and jumped into the water, practically on top of me. He wasn’t even in his bathing suit. And he just grabbed her, shoving me away as he dunked her underwater. She came up coughing and choking and he pulled her until she crawled onto his back. He bounced around, away from me, constantly dipping her beneath the water. I just crawled out of the pool, then.

“You better take a shower. My friends are gonna be here in an hour,” he called out to me. I could hear his words slurring and the pool deck was littered with empty cans and bottles- and it was barely noon. Looking back, Beca was biting her lip. She murmured something in his ear and made to swim off. He just yanked her back by her wrist. Wincing, she let him kiss her. When I saw his fingers push past her bathing suit bottom, I turned and quickly went inside to jump into her shower. I made the water as cold as possible.

 

“Can you paint my nails? You know I’m terrible at it,” Beca whispered. She had just gotten out of the shower and came to find me lounging on her bed in just a tank top and shorts, my hair wrapped in a towel; she was in a similar state of dress. When I propped myself up on my elbows, really looking at her, she seemed sad. Like a light had gone out in her eyes.

“Sure thing, babe,” I winked. She grinned, then. “Pick a color.” I followed her into the bathroom while she took out a bottle of red nail polish. I sat on the floor of the bathroom and pulled her hand on my thigh. She rested her chin on her own knee and watched me paint her nails.

“I can hear those wheels turning in your head, Becs. What’re you thinking?” I asked, not looking up from her nails.

“Nothing. Just… Music stuff,” she sighed quietly. I nodded and kept on painting her nails, pretending not to notice the way she sighs, and keeps staring at me. If I focused on it, I would feel the way my heart seemed to skip a few beats. The way my cheeks flushed under her gaze and my skin tingled where she touched me. I just finished her nails while we sat and waited for them to dry, planning out outfits.

“I don’t understand why you want me to put on a nicer shirt,” I’d whined. She was rummaging in her closet, tossing a nicer tank top at me. It was bright blue and would look nice with the white shorts I was wearing. Grumbling, I took off my shirt and started to change, smirking to myself as Beca turns away, biting her lip.

“Jesse says his friend Tom would like you. He’s coming over this afternoon.”

“Jesse’s setting me up now? Why? Out of the goodness of his heart?” I snorted. She just shrugged, turning around. Jesse doesn’t like me. That much was clear. But why the hell would he try to set me up?

“Just… It’ll be fun to dress up even if Tom is a total dud,” she begged. “I’ll do your makeup.” Twisting my bottom lip, I considered her offer.

“I don’t want my eyeliner as thick as yours, but I kind of want to try it,” I compromised. She grinned and started pulling out her makeup.

It was difficult, having her do my makeup. She was hovering right in front of my face. I could smell her, feel her warm breath on my face. Beca’s mouth was puckered in concentration and her fingers ghosted over my face to smooth out Beca’s mistakes. While she was putting on my lip gloss, her eyes flicked from my mouth to my eyes, and I could have sworn her pupils dilated. Her mouth fell open just a little and I leaned in just a little closer. We were moving in when suddenly-

“Yo, Beca! My friends are here! Get out here!” Jesse shouted from downstairs. We broke apart suddenly and Beca jumped to go be a decent host, leaving me alone in her room trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

 

There were only ten guests. Beca introduced me to them, but it was hard to tell one from the other. They all looked like burnouts, junkies and drunk college kids. Most of them just came for the free beer and pot, and were sitting on the couch laughing and watching Jesse and Tom play video games. I sat next to Beca, my head propped on my elbow on the back of the couch, turning to watch Beca interact with everyone. After a while, video games turned into crappy rap music.

“Why doesn’t he put on some of your mixes?” I’d asked in a whimper with my nose crinkled.

“I don’t… He’s only ever listened to three of them. All mixes I made specifically for him,” she sighed quietly. I scooted a little closer to her.

“But you’ve showed me… dozens- maybe more. And there’s hundred on your computer. Why has he only seen 3?” Beca was opening her mouth to answer when suddenly Jesse’s hands were dragging her up by her arm. He pressed her back to his front, swaying in a drunken, awkward dance. He started grinding on her and I turned my head, pursing my lips. There was a physical ache in my heart, watching him dance so roughly, yank her around like she’s a rag doll.

“Stop it, Jess,” she whispered, shoving away from him. She dropped down back onto the couch and she winced apologetically at me. I nodded awkwardly, patting her leg. Sighing, we just sat quietly and watched the drunken revelry.

 

A few hours later, everyone had made their way home. Or out to find more beer. I had gone to take a nap in Beca’s room while she got rid of Tom; he was beyond boring, beyond an asshole, and I wanted to avoid him. So she offered to get rid of him for me while I relaxed in her room. I woke up an hour later, groggy and surrounded by her scent. I smiled for a moment before I woke up, remembering Jesse was probably still here.

Walking back through her hall, I trailed my hand on the wall. Her father had clearly spent ages documenting his life with Beca, and her new stepmother. There are pictures of family outings from Beca’s childhood at the zoo, the museum, and amusement parks. In the older photographs, Beca was beaming. As she got older, the smiles grew smaller and eventually became smirks. I loved them just the same.

Jesse was snoring in the living room, a half empty bottle steadily slipping out of his grasp. I wanted to move it so that it wouldn’t stain Beca’s carpet, but i also didn’t want to disturb him or make him wake up. As I walked towards her backyard, I picked up some of the trash from the party.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water. She was moving her legs, slowly tracing ripples in the water, her flannel shedded on the ground behind her. I watched Beca roll her shoulders, watched every muscle ripple. My tongue darted out to lick my lips and I quietly came to sit beside her, kicking off my shoes.

“Have a good time?” she rasped, clearing her throat. Based on the shimmer in her eyes, she seemed close to tears. I just nodded wordlessly. My hands shifted and our pinkies overlapped. Looking down, she smiled at me. 

I don’t know how it happened. I’m not sure who glanced at whose lips first, who leaned in first. All I know is one second I was just looking at her. The next, we were a hair’s breadth away from each other. My hands were just going to cup her face when I felt something sharp.

My hair felt like it was being yanked out of my scalp and I was flying backwards, ripped away from her. I hadn’t even had time to open my eyes before there was a flash of white light. For a second, I was numb. My ears were ringing. Something warm and sticky was dripping into my eyes, and my face felt like it was on fire. I could hear voices but they sounded far away, like I was underwater. Slowly, everything came back into focus. I opened my eyes.

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking serious, right now? Do you know what I’ve done for you?!” Jesse is yelling, had yanked Beca to her feet. I was lying on the ground on the rocks next to the pool. My hand went to my head and it came away slick with my own blood. I could taste it in my mouth, dripping down all parts of my face. It stung and I didn’t even know where I was cut. Looking over, I make eye contact with Beca, who’s just starting to cry, biting her lip.

“Hey, no! Don’t look at her, look at  _ me _ . I’m your boyfriend, damnit! What is she? Some whore?” It took a moment for me to realize he was talking about me. He shifted so that she couldn’t see me. I could hear his voice wobbling. “You make me sick. Her kind makes everyone  _ sick! _ I can’t believe she’d make you like that. It’s  _ disgusting _ .” He’s crying now. I kind of want to laugh. He yanked me by my hair and threw me face first into rocks. I was bloodied and dizzy. Beca was bruised and walking on eggshells around him all the time. But I  _ almost _ kissed his girlfriend and that’s enough to drive him to tears?

“Jesse,” she whimpers.

“No, you don’t get to speak right now! You haven’t earned that right!” I hear her try to speak again and I’m on my feet before I even register the harsh slapping sound. Her head is turned, like he’d slapped her. And something just snapped inside of me. I was on my feet, lunging at him with a yell.

I’d never hit someone before. I didn’t even really know how. But now I was sitting on top of him, punching with both hands at his chest, his jaw, his face. When someone started me pulling me to my feet, I kicked at him.

“Chloe, Chloe, stop!” Beca was shouting. And it’s her voice that brought me back to myself. I stop, turned to look at her. Her eyes widened, taking in my injuries. “He hurt you,” she mumbles, her thumb tracing a spot on my forehead. I winced and she moved her finger to a cut on my lip. I could feel it swelling.

“He hurts  _ you _ all the time,” I whispered, gesturing to the bruises on her wrists from where he’d grabbed her too tight. She lets out a breathy, watery chuckle and I don’t know what made me lean forward. But before I even realized what I was doing, my tongue was in her mouth. She tasted like berries with a hint of weed. Her mouth moved against mine curiously at first, hesitant. Then sure, confident and insistent. Her tongue was scraping against every part of my mouth. I pulled away with a wince, stumbling backwards.

“You’re bleeding really bad,” she told me, frowning. “Are you dizzy? You hit your head pretty hard.” I nodded, but that was clearly a mistake. The pounding in my head increases. “I’m calling for help.”

“The police are going to come… Take him, take  _ me _ ,” I added, looking down at Jesse. Bruises were beginning to blossom on his face and he was groaning.

“I won’t let them take you,” she said fervently, already pulling out her phone. Taking her hand, we went inside and locked the doors. She held a towel to my head to hold pressure on the blood until the police and the ambulance came. Jesse had run off when we told him we called the police, but as they took me away in the ambulance with Beca by my side, I saw them dragging him back towards their squad car. They called my parents from the hospital.

 

“And… that’s how it happened,” I finish. I can see Beca outside my hospital room, chewing her bottom lip, eyes wet with tears. The officers are talking to her and a nurse looked like she was trying to look at Beca’s wrists.

“So, you like this Becky girl?” My dad asks quietly.

“Her name’s Beca. And yeah, I do. A lot,” I reply. Starting to cry, I look down at my hands. The doctors had stopped the bleeding in my head but were waiting to take me to get my head scanned. The officers were now finished with me and bid their goodbyes, insisting they’ll keep me informed of the case. It wasn’t until the nurse had me in a wheelchair that my parents grabbed my arm, stopping me.

“We’d like to meet this girl again. Now that you’re involved, she should come have dinner at our house. We’d like to get to know her,” my mother whispers insistently. I smile and nod.

“I’ll mention it to her.” My dad clears his throat.

“Girls like you… girls who like girls… in the same way that boys do… It’s been around… Forever, I’m sure. I don’t know if you were afraid of what we’d think, or what our neighbors or family might think… but you’re still our little girl. And we love you. And, if she’s good to you, I think we’ll grow to like Beca, too,” he says gruffly, awkwardly. But I beam at him.

“Thank you, daddy,” I whisper. He kisses the top of my head, but when I wince he lets the doctor wheel me towards radiology. 

“Beca!” I call as the nurse wheels me past her.

“We should really get you to radiology,” the nurse reminds me. 

“Just one minute?” I beg as Beca jogs over. She nods and steps away for a second. “Beca, hi.”

“Hi,” she says shyly, biting her thumb nail. She digs one toe of her converse into the ground. “I’m sorry I let him say those things. I’m sorry I ever introduced you to him. I’m sorry you ever met me. I’m so… I’m so sorry,” she whimpers. I grab at her hand.

“Don’t be. If I’d never met you, I’d never be able to appreciate a good mystery. And I wouldn’t appreciate surprise endings,” I whisper fervently. She grins when I lean up and she leans down to kiss me. The nurse only gives us a moment, not even enough time to really get into it, before clearing her throat.

“You’d better be here when I come back,” I call to her as I roll down the hallway.

“I guess it’s just a mystery,” she teases, sticking out her tongue. I can’t conceal my grin, even as I’m lying in the CT scanner. I wonder if it’ll show up on my scans.


End file.
